Sherlocks First Case
by Deathtoaster
Summary: There is something afoot in the Holmes residence, and Sherlock is determined to work it out. Never mind that he's only six. Young!Sherlock, Young!Mycroft. Flames will be used to toast marshmallows.


**A.N. Hi. The idea for this one came from my brain, so sorry if it's weird. Also sorry if the characters are out of character. That sounded weird. At the start I was like "Let's write a oneshot!" but I'm wondering whether to continue with mini characters.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own sherlock. If I did, I would be too busy cackling evilly to write fanfiction.**

"But Mummy, I'm busy!" The child's voice was petulant. This was a battle fought many times before.

"You can stop being busy quite easily." His mother's voice was gentle, but firm, and she had to hide a smile as her husband, David Holmes, raised his eyebrows at her. Violet was, without a doubt, the stern parent.

"But it's still light!" This argument was unoriginal, as he had used it every day for three years, regardless of the light levels outside.

"As I have explained, many times, the level of light doesn't affect time. It is still seven thirty, so you, Sherlock Holmes, are going to bed. Come on." She reached for her six-year-old son's hand, but he pulled back, having two more excuses to utilise.

"I'm not tired!" His face told the truth though, and the circles under his eyes, though faint, were still visible. His mother ignored Sherlock's excuse, moving towards him.

"Mummy, _Mycroft_ isn't going to bed." Sherlock was quite proud of this argument, but as ever, his mother had a comeback.

"Mycroft is thirteen, you are six. When you're thirteen, you can go to bed at nine. But at the moment, you are _not_ thirteen, so it's bedtime." She reached for him again, but he ran behind his elder brother's chair, knocking it in the process. Mycroft looked up from his homework and glanced around the room, taking in his brothers curly head peeking around the chair, and his mothers slightly angry face.

"Mummy, I'll get him." he said. He stood up, stretched, then sat down on the floor next to his wayward brother. "Sherlock." he began.

His brother knelt next to him, and whispered "I don't want to go to bed."

Mycroft chuckled. "I guessed that, brother. But did you know that going to sleep makes the morning come faster? Tomorrow afternoon, we're going on a outing with Mummy."

Sherlock's interest was piqued. "Mycroft, where are we going?" His brother only smiled, and said "I'll tell you when you're ready and in bed."

Sherlock punched him. "_Mycroft_!" he whined.

Mycroft put on a higher, childish voice. _"Sherlock_!" He switched back to his normal voice, and added "Go on."

Sherlock rushed from the room with his dark curls bouncing madly, and then a yelp was heard as the hyper boy almost crashed into the wall.

Mycroft raised his eyebrows at his grinning parents, then sat in his chair and continued with his homework.

**Linebreak**

Twenty minutes later, a voice floated down from upstairs. "_Mycroft_! Come _on_!"

Mycroft stood up again, and went upstairs. When he entered Sherlock's bedroom, he was greeted with the sight of his small brother, who was sitting in bed trying not to look excited and failing miserably. Mycroft sat down on the bed and leant against the headboard.

"_Mycroft_! Where are we going?" Sherlock's voice was insistent.

"Maybe I've forgotten." Mycroft _did_ enjoy teasing his brother.

"_Tell me_!" then at Mycroft's stern look: "_Please_?"

Mycroft sighed, then relented. "Tomorrow, you, Mummy and I are going to the science museum."

"Really?" He paused. "What about Daddy?"

"Daddy doesn't like science much, so he's going to compete in an old car race. The car he showed us in the garage is for that." said Mycroft, and then grinned at his brother's response.

"Why doesn't Daddy like science? Science is cool!" He then switched subjects, back to the outing. "Will they have elements?"

Mycroft smiled at Sherlock's eager face. "Yes, they will. Everything is made of elements, after all."

"Tell me about elements, Mycroft." the small boy said. So his older brother gave a very lengthy explanation, ending with "But you can't see how they make up everything, because they're really small, like a certain person in this room."

Sherlock's smile grew wider. "That has to be you, because I'm _big_! I'm bigger than you, _and_ cleverer than you."

"You aren't bigger and cleverer. I'm the big, clever brother. You're the small, stupid brother."

"I'm cleverer than you."

"How on earth did you work that out?"

"You talk too much. It's your bedtime, according to the clock." Mycroft looked at the clock, then smiled. "Good point. Night then, little brother."

"Night Mycroft."

Mycroft switched off the light before leaving, and Sherlock lay down. Maybe he _was _tired, after all.

**Linebreak**

It was four o'clock in the morning, Sherlock was awake again. But the room he was in seemed strange and disturbing with no evening light shining through the curtains. Sherlock's pale arm reached over the side of his bed, for the soft stuffed dog that had fallen on the floor. Just after he lifted it, the curtains rustled, creating a distorted shadow of a horrible monster that moved slowly towards him.

The radiator suddenly made a noise, and Sherlock jumped, looking wildly around the room for monsters that didn't exist.

Suddenly, a creaking noice came from outside, and then the noise of something moving. Sherlock climbed out of bed as quickly as he could. Running to his bedroom door, he opened it carefully and slipped out, closing the door firmly behind him.

What should he do now? He thought. What would make him feel less scared? And just like that, he had an answer.

**Linebreak**

"Mycroft!" said a small voice. Mycroft groaned. "_Mycroft_!" The voice was insistent.

"What?" he said grumpily. He rubbed his eyes, and realised that the voice was coming from his brother.

"Mycroft, my bedroom keeps making _noises_ and it's _dark_ and things kept _moving_ and it's scary!"

Mycroft glanced at the clock, realised he couldn't see it, and yawned. Then he shifted to one side of his bed. Sherlock clambered in, clutching a toy dog, and sat down.

"Mycroft, will you tell me about science again?" He wanted to say _No, go away_, but it was Sherlock, so instead he yawned again, and began.

"Okay, little brother, so the periodic table is..."

**Linebreak**

Violet Holmes opened the door of Sherlock's bedroom. He wasn't there. She was about to call for her husband. Then she noticed something.

Mycroft's door was open slightly.

_ Mycroft never left his door open, preferring have his room completely dark, so somebody must have gone in during the night. If they had left afterwards, they would have shut the door behind them._

She peeked inside.

Mycroft and Sherlock _were_ inside. Sherlock fidgeting impatiently as he waited for someone to announce breakfast. Mycroft was still asleep, but not for much longer.

Sherlock appeared to have been deciding something, and having come to a decision, shouted "MYCROFT!" as loud as he could. Mycroft sat up startled, and then fell off the bed. He sat up, ruffled, then regained his bearings. Mycroft grinned. Then he grabbed Sherlock and started tickling him. Sherlock screamed.

She opened the door and said "Boys!"

They froze.

"Stop that right now, and come and have breakfast."

Once the boys' mother had left, Sherlock grinned at Mycroft, and said "I bet I beat you downstairs!"

He threw on his clothes as fast as he could, but Sherlock was still too slow, as he arrived downstairs to see his brother eating cornflakes. He frowned. "How long have you been down?"

"Please, brother, use those _amazing _deduction skills and work it out."

_ Hmm... He must have been down for about two minutes, considering his cornflakes. Mycroft always has the same amount of cornflakes, so if you look at speed of eating and amount left, he must have been here for two minutes, but it takes him three minutes to get cereal, so that's five minutes in total._

"Five minutes!" Sherlock announced triumphantly

"Well done." said Mycroft, and Sherlock grinned and sat down.

"Sherlock, dear, can you get the milk in, please?" said his mother. He jumped off his chair again and slipped outside. Sherlock reached down for the milk, but stopped short as he noticed that the milk wasn't there. Where was the milk? It was _always_ there. The milkman always put it on the right side of the door, but it wasn't there. He stepped further away, and then turned to look at the door. Then, he saw the milk.

It was on the left side of the door.

Sherlock stood there thinking, until his father opened the door.

"Hello, Sherlock, what are you doing outside the door? Didn't Mummy ask you to get the milk?" said his father.

"Daddy, what are you doing?" asked the inquisitive boy.

"Looking for you, Sherlock. Mummy was expecting the milk five minutes ago."

"Daddy, when were you last in the garage?" Sherlock asked innocently as he walked back towards the door.

_The garage door creaks, like that noise last night._

_ Why would somebody go in the garage at night?_

"Yesterday afternoon, I think, why?"

"No reason." the young boy went back inside, grabbing the milk as he did so.

Once he was inside and situated on a chair, he continued his investigation. "Mummy, when were you last in the garage?" His mother seemed confused by the question. "Yesterday afternoon, your Dad was showing something he had arranged. Why?"

"Just curious." his answer seemed to satisfy her, and she went back to making breakfast for her husband and herself.

Sherlock, what are you doing? mouthed Mycroft. Tell you later. Sherlock mouthed back.

**Linebreak**

After breakfast, the brothers met in Mycrofts bedroom. Sherlock started the conversation. "Mycroft, I think somebody is trying to kill Daddy."

Mycroft looked confused. "How on earth did you come to that conclusion?"

"Well, last night I heard a creaking noise, and this morning, when Daddy opened the garage it made the same noise, so someone went into the garage last night. The noise was at four, which is when the milkman comes, and the milk was on the left, but the milkman puts it on the right, so it wasn't our normal milkman. Why would a milkman want to kill Daddy? I don't think it was a milkman, it was a person from the car race. The prize is most likely money, so it could be someone who thinks Daddy will win. They probably broke part of the brakes, to make it look like an accident."

"It's possible. Let's go and look at the car."

**Linebreak**

Their father was in the kitchen when they arrived. He was having a conversation with his wife, and he stopped talking when the boys walked in. "Boys, what are you doing?"

Mycroft started. "We need you to check the car over, but the brakes in particular."

"Why, Mikey?" Mycroft sighed.

"Father, don't call me Mikey. You named me, so you ought to use that name. Sherlock and I think somebody is planning to sabotage your car and make you lose the race." Mycroft said.

"Why- Who- How did you work that out?" said their father, shocked.

"Sherlock heard the garage open last night, and the milk was on the left."

"How- actually, I don't even want to know. I'll check it over. Thank you, boys."

"Can we come and help?" Sherlock piped up.

"I, for one, don't want to go and help. I have homework that needs finishing." said Mycroft haughtily. He felt that he was the most sensible male member of the Holmes family, and as such, shouldn't be mending cars.

"No thank you Sherlock, cars are dangerous when you don't know what to do."

Mycroft and Sherlock went upstairs, Mycroft looking thoughtful, Sherlock looking smug. In the his bedroom, Mycroft sat down and ignored his brother. He knew his parents were hiding something.

_ It needs keeping in the garage, so Sherlock and I would notice it. We already have bikes, and neither of us need new ones. It can't be_

"Mycroft, will you play pirates with me?" asked Sherlock. "After all, I just saved Daddy's life!"

_ No, I don't think you did._

"_Mycroft_! You can be the evil pirate captain!" pleaded the six-year-old. Mycroft shook himself out of his reverie, and said "Sherlock, I have homework. Anyway, why am I always the evil one?"

Sherlock's cheeky reply was interrupted by their mother.

"Boys! Can you come down please?" They thundered down the stairs and into the kitchen, to see their parents there.

"Sherlock, Mikey, your deductions were excellent, but they were in fact completely wrong. We thought you boys needed to be more energetic. Come on." said their father, beginning to walk towards the garage.

_More energetic. Are they going to confiscate my books?_

The garage was slowly opened, to reveal a dog. It was chestnut coloured, and had floppy ears. Sherlock gasped, and sat down next to it. He stroked it, and the dog's tail thumped on the concrete floor. Mycroft blinked, confused. But it _did_ make sense.

_Dog was bought, and taken into the garage two nights ago. Last night at four it was let out for exercise, and it knocked the milk over. Father stood them up again, but on the wrong side. The car had nothing to do with it._

"Mikey, go and meet him." Apparently the dog was male.

"My name is Mycroft." He said, but went and sat down anyway. He sneezed twice.

"Mikey?" his mother said, concerned.

"My-atchoo-name is-atchoo-Mycroft." He stood up and brushed himself down. Walking over to his parents, he said casually "I think I may be allergic to dogs."

"Can I name him then?" Sherlock was excited at the prospect.

"You may." said their amused mother.

"I think that the dog will be named Blackbeard or something piratey like that." whispered Mycroft to his father, who grinned in response.

"I'm going to call him Redbeard!" announced Sherlock.

Mycroft raised his eyebrows at his father.


End file.
